There was something off putting about knowing, on a first name basis, so many twisted and terrible souls. It wasn’t as if Eva went out of her way to find these creatures--no, when you had a direct hand in the operations of an entire metroplex area such as Los Angeles and it’s surrounding regions, the cretins came to you. Whether living or unliving; one of the creepiest creatures she had ever met was a slick young Talent Agent only five years from passing the California State Bar. Completely mortal, completely made her skin crawl. 

Then there were the others. Sara Anne Winder was an English born, English embaced, Italian raised Ventrue; she was also the Prince of San Fransisco. As far as cities went in the state of California, there was Los Angeles and there was California. Sacramento was the state capital, but it hung on strings that were pulled by bases of power in the two main cities. And with the even greater rise of nearby Silicon Valley, you would think San Fransisco would be a very large thorn in the side of whoever ran Los Angeles. 

You’d be wrong, though. The New Promise Mandarinate, the Kuei-jin court of San Fransisco, was the true power in the city. Sara Anne was an embattled Prince, an 8th Generation Ventrue that was thrown into the frozen deep by her Camarilla masters. The Camarilla was seductive--it was also heartless. Eva did not envy Sara Anne, but neither did Eva hold any sympathy for the woman...she’d asked for it, after all. 

But every now and then, Eva had to speak to Sara Anne. It was always on the phone, and in truth Sara Anne had no idea just who she was speaking to. The Prince of San Fransisco believed she was speaking to Sophia, a public relationships Executive in Hollywood, and an 8th Generation Kindred. When Sara Anne needing something in Los Angeles, it was Sophia she called. A ‘hook up’ from Don Sebastian that survived his death.

Go figure. Today Sara Anne sounded tense. Which was in no way different than any other time Eva spoke to the devil woman--it just sounded a little worse today. “Have you heard of the event, or not?”

The woman snapped at her over the phone. Eva’s eyes narrowed at first, but only for that half-moment before her honey coated tone returned to the line. “Yes, of course.” Everyone in Los Angeles had heard of the coming Rant. It was being called ‘The Big Rant’, and like any good Los Angeles event it was the kind of affair where anyone who was ANYONE was going to be there. From Primogens to self-proclaimed Princes (LA currently had two of those) to thin-blooded Caitiffs just looking for their next meal and to avoid the gangs. 

Even, as expected, members of Sara Anne’s Court. “Will it be safe?”

“Of course, it’s being held in Disneyland--the biggest Elysium in all of California, and the safest.” Both were true. How Disneyland was kept SO safe and orderly was a mass mystery. One known to but a few...and Eva was, surprisingly, not one of the few. 

A bark of bitter laughter followed Eva’s words as Sara Anne’s pride seemed to take a hit. “Every from Los Angeles boosts about their city so much.” 

“Weeeell, from Hollywood and it’s billions of revenue a year to the Port of Los Angeles and it’s nearly 200 million metric tons of cargo a year to the millions of barrels of oil the Los Angeles City Oil Field produces to the fact that our weather is just a lot nicer than yours.”

“Ha,” The Prince of SanFran seemed sharply amused at that, “As if the weather is a boon to the Kindred population.”

When Eva looked out her window to the sight of the Pacific Ocean under a clear velvet black night sky and a big, round, silver moon...Eva had to smirk to herself. “You’re far too stressed, Sara.”

“Remind me again how LA repulsed the Kuei-jin?”

Eva responded in the only way she knew how: smirking, and as a smart ass, “We’re just boss like that down here in LA. Stay safe, Prince.”

The line went down just as a shadow appeared in the doorway to Eva’s third story office. By the time Eva turned to look, Mandy was on her, nipping at her ear and sighing a trail of air light kisses up her neck. “Alex is here. He has a guest.”

“A guest?”

But Mandy only shrugged in response, prompting a mutter from the Native before Eva found herself moving faster than the human eye, and most Kindred eyes, could process. Eva was just in time to see the gates opening, and the man drive up.

For once, Eva looked less than pleased, standing straight as a dagger, arms crossed, eyes once more narrowed.

Alex’s audi made its way up the long driveway of Eva’s mansion at about ten miles an hour, the Kindred keeping such a slow pace so that he could admire the sight of all of LA’s city lights at such a late hour. Although it was a sight that he saw quite often, he [i]did[/i] love seeing all those lights - and felt almost like a Toreador in his adoration of them: not that he would stand and stare at them for hours, however - he had [i]far[/i] too much work to be doing. 

The expensive car came to a halt just a few metres away from Eva - and the front door which she stood in front of - parked neatly in the middle of the massive building’s courtyard. Taking in a deep breath, Alex opened the door of his vehicle and stepped out into the open air: a small smile spreading across his lips as he approached the woman whom he had served for the last sixty years, opening his muscular arms wide; aiming to wrap them around her waist, pulling her close and squeezing lightly - well, lightly by the standards of a Russian Brujah who was at most times unaware of his own strength. “Eva,” He began, pulling back slightly - that smile still on his lips. “How are you?” He inquired, concern evident in his voice - he knew what had been going on over the last few days since he had last seen the woman, and he [i]was[/i] worried about her. 

The Russian took another moment or two of holding the native woman close before releasing her completely, pressing a brief kiss upon her forehead; stubbled cheeks brushing against her smooth skin. He had noticed her less-than-pleased expression as soon as he’d seen her - which had been a good few metres down the road - but had decided to ignore her displeasure until he absolutely had to address it: which was now. 

Clearing his throat, he took a half-step towards his audi: inside which the Irish gangster he’d brought back with him was sitting, looking as docile as a half-grown sheep. “I, uh.. brought a guest,” He murmured, in English with no hint of a Russian accent, glancing back towards Eva with a sheepish smile. “He killed a few of my kine. I took care of the rest of those that were responsible, but I wanted to, uh.. make this one’s experience a bit more.. special.” 

He finished speaking, eyes resting upon the woman who’s opinion and approval meant so much to him - waiting to see how she’d react. 

Despite her best efforts, the moment his massive arms were around her and he was clutching her tightly...she’d lost any irritations or anger she might’ve had over the guest. Even after she had been squeezed harder than a freshly unwrapped squeaky toy; an act that left her a little light headed for a moment.

Once she regained her balance, Eva found herself chuckling and stealing a kiss from the corner of his mouth, her hands coming together and resting on her midsection. “Use the sub-basement. Clean it up afterwards,” which, to be fair, was as easy as starting a dishwasher. “Please don’t let Samantha find out.”

If there had been any anger or irritation in the first place, it was only out of the fear that the human might find out. For some reason, Eva had a bad feeling on how Sam might react if she knew torture and murder were going on in one of their own sanctuaries. Still, it was better than doing it at Chateau Marmont or the Hollywood Hills complex. 

“We’ll have to find a proper location for bloody business…” Then she drifted, her mind considering options: was there a meat packaging plant they could buy out and convert? Any food processing facility could work, as blood and meat were common waste products.

Another thought for another day, her head shaking quickly as her focus returned to the here and now. “Stay on the lookout for a place, and I’ll do the same. Maybe something in Long Beach?” Then she shrugged, and motioned for him to follow her--his guest could keep for a little while. 

Once inside, Herr Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23 in A major filtered through the air as light and airy as the sea birds chirping outside, the cool Southern California night air and the cool air of the home’s interior a seamless transition. Eva moved straight to the first floor kitchen and the back lounge, with it’s wall of windows along the rear of the house, allowing the silvery moon and the view of the Pacific down below full command of the lounge with it’s built-in and stuffed bookcases every other direction you looked, and it’s cushy white furniture. 

Upon the cloud like couch was a curled up Lasombra, Miranda West, with a book and a cashmere blood red blanket wrapped about her. It was there that Eva looked from the milk white, red and black veined, marble counters of the kitchen. “Mandy, do you want a drink?”

“No thank you.”

“I have a weird taste for a Vodka martini. Sit down, I’ll make one for you.” Considering she had everything she needed for it just under the counter, it wasn’t exactly a large task. “Alex you’ve already heard about ‘The Big Rant’? If your people don’t already know about it, get them talking about it. The rumors should be around town already, what else do I pay Nosferatu for? But just in case.”

“Relax, everyone’s going to be there that wants to be there.” Miranda’s tone was almost clinically calm.

“I’ll even be there.”

Mandy looked up, at Alex. “Don’t worry, not as herself.”

It was a precaution, the many guises and aliases of Eva. Christopher had gotten her used to it, and his paranoia...well, it had rubbed off. Just the thought made her turn cold as she finished the drinks, taking the Russian his before she sat herself on the edge of an adjacent chair and sipped at her drink, eyes down.

“I’m okay, Alex. I’m more paranoid than I was before...but I can’t tell if that’s consuming Christopher’s soul, or if it’s just the cold, lonely, realization that...there’s no one else now. I’m the only elder in the city, even if it is in complete secret.”

“You bloody Methuselah, you,” Mandy’s focus was back to her book when she made the wise crack, her grin all but chesire. 

Eva chuckled, but stiffly so. “I guess. Anyway, I’m okay.”

[i]I think, at least.[/i]

He was surprised that she wasn’t angry at him: but then, he was surprised [i]every[/i] time she forgave him. As long as he didn’t do something too stupid - or even if he did - he knew she’d forgive him eventually: but that didn’t stop him from getting worried whenever she seemed irritated or annoyed. It was a strange relationship that the two of them had. “Will do, Eva,” He smiled, pressing a quick kiss to the woman’s lips as a gesture of gratitude. “He’ll stay in the car, for now - I’ll take him down once we’ve talked: she won’t know he’s here, promise.”

Alexander followed after her as she began to make her way inside, nodding his head slowly. “Sure. I’ll keep an eye out. A slaughterhouse would be good - or we could just use one of my warehouses in LA. Most of ‘em are empty, apart from a few cars that my guys haven’t had the time to move yet.” 

The Russian Kindred fell silent as he entered Eva’s - and his, he supposed - home, a small smile spreading across his lips at the music. “A good choice, Eva,” He mumbled, casting his eyes around the interior of the massive, modernised home, “But I would have personally prefered something a little less.. German.” A grin, then - along with a mischievous chuckle. “Just a preference; I won’t hold it against you.” He caught the woman’s eye, winking roguishly and moving past her as they entered the kitchen - hand brushing along the back of her thigh, fingertips of his other hand curling around her hip for a brief moment as he pushed past, entering the back lounge of the building - moving over to Mandy, and settling himself down on the arm of the couch by her head. 

“I’ve heard about it, yeah - and they’re talking about it already. The Russians’ll be about for the big event, don’t you worry.” His tone had been casual, as had his posture, but it abruptly changed when he heard that Eva was going to be attending the event - his gaze meeting Mandy’s, concern evident on his handsome features. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He demanded of the woman when he approached, accepting his drink with a muttered word of thanks. “Are you sure it’s.. safe? And so soon?”

He sighed, shaking his head at Eva’s reassurances - not that they really made him feel any better. “Well, I guess if you say you’re okay then you’re okay. But, I want to be there on the day - with you. I don’t give a shit who sees us, but I’m not letting you wander around the city all by yourself. You’re more of a target than ever, now.”

[i]No[/i] was the first answer to the Russian that came to Eva. It was a protective instinct, not a rational request. And she’d be disguising her Generation, so none save the precious few who already knew would know just who--and what--was standing right there in the middle of the Big Rant. Why have a bodyguard? Wouldn’t it just draw attention to her? She was trying to find the next individual to throw the secret power of Los Angeles behind, not attract elder hunters. 

It was the echo of Alex’s touch and tone that went unbounded through her mind; a gentle reminder that he was not just some protective guard--he was a member of her Coterie, and he had a right to her because of it.
A little pause after his declaration, Eva’s silence ended. “Okay, Alex,” her voice soft but sugary from her smiling red lips. “In the meantime, maybe taking care of that...thing...before you-know-who comes back?”

At ‘...thing...’ Eva had Mandy’s attention, though her question went unasked...for now.

“Good.” He stated, a small smile spreading across his lips; he hadn’t really been expecting Eva to agree with him so easily. The Kindred moved his drink upwards, towards his lips, draining the alcohol in a few large gulps. After all, it had little effect on him anymore, and he didn’t really like the taste: he was just being polite. As the woman mentioned the ‘thing’ that he’d brought with him to the mansion, the Russian met her gaze - giving her a small nod of confirmation that he would, indeed, take care of the ‘thing’. 

“I shouldn’t be too long,” He grinned, rising to his feet - wiggling his fingers in farewell to Mandy as he exited the loungeroom, footsteps carrying him back through the front door and away from the soft sound of one of Mozart's symphonies. There was work to be done.